


Respite

by sempre_balla



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, light angst only on the first chapter this is sugary sweet, mods are asleep post tender ikesorens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempre_balla/pseuds/sempre_balla
Summary: In which Ike is loving and patient, and Soren slowly learns that he, too, deserves a rest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this very quickly and it's 1am so excuse any mistakes. the second chapter will go up tomorrow, and it is very, very cheesy

When they were so young that their voices hadn't started changing yet, Boyd spread the rumor that Soren didn't sleep. Maybe it couldn't even be called a rumor, considering how small their company was at the time. But it still spread, and soon the youngest members of the Greil Mercenaries would whisper to each other whenever they saw Soren retiring for the evening, wondering what he'd get up to, even going as far as to follow him to his room once and peeking under the door to see the flickering light of a candle and the muted sound of turning pages. Soren had noticed, of course, and he'd gotten angry, of course, but Ike hadn't missed the nervous crack to his voice, and the paranoid glances the mage would throw over his shoulder during the weeks following the incident. He had started looking even more tired after that, and the bags under his eyes became a permanent part of his anatomy.

Ike had been concerned. He had never seen Soren sleep, no one had, and Soren’s complete lack of self-preservation coupled with his tendency to obsessively drown himself in work had worried him—still worried him. But Soren had brushed off his concern and his suggestions to take a break from work, because that was Soren when he was young, tormented by his own blood and utterly convinced that he wasn't worth anyone’s attention or care. Ike prided himself on his resilience though, and he had kept asking, kept caring, until Soren had finally caved one night during their war against Begnion.

Ike was hiding in Soren’s tent, not because Aimee was chasing him around again—she had been doing that less and less these days, her interest seeming to have shifted into their increasingly charming staff officer—but because he needed some peace and quiet, some time away from the boisterous mix of laguz and mercenaries that kept barging into his tent to pester him about one thing or the other. Ike loved his friends, and he sometimes felt cruel for avoiding them, but Soren understood. Soren always understood.

And Ike wanted to understand as well. No matter how many heart-to-heart talks he had with his best friend, he found that he never knew enough. There was always something left to decipher, something left to explore. Maybe that was what made his relationship with Soren so engaging, and Ike was insatiable.

And Soren? After a bit of prodding, Soren always caved. So that one specific night, after being prompted, Soren shut his book, placed it on his desk, and flopped down on the cot, next to where Ike was laying.

“When we sleep we are at our most vulnerable,” he said while looking up at the ceiling of the tent. His voice was quiet, barely a murmur, a pleasant hum that Ike liked to listen to with his eyes closed. “I don't want people to find me like that. Anything could happen.”

Ike wanted to argue that nothing would happen, that they were surrounded by good people and that even if someone wanted to, they wouldn't dare to hurt Soren because everyone knew they'd have to face Ike and Titania’s rage. Maybe Mist’s too. Even Skrimir’s now. But Soren was Soren, and Soren didn't trust people. Soren was always scared, and Ike wanted to make him less scared. So he turned to lay on his side, propping his head up with a hand, and looked into those familiar red eyes.

“What about me?” He asked. “Would you be able to sleep around me?”

“I… suppose so,” Soren answered. His cheeks colored a little, and then he added, “It would be embarrassing though.”

“Why?” Ike asked. Soren shrugged, turning his head away, and Ike sat up to get a better view of Soren’s flushed face. “I bet you have a nice sleeping face.”

“Oh, shut up,” the mage said in a poor attempt to hide the fondness in his voice. “Anyway, even if I slept next to you, you wouldn't be able to see my sleeping face. You always wake up later than me.”

“Then take a nap,” Ike suggested, gently placing a hand on Soren’s chest and feeling his rapid heartbeat on his palm. “Right here. You look exhausted. I'll keep watch for you.”

Soren sucked in a sharp breath, and Ike felt the muscles of his chest moving with it.

“Why don't _you_ take it, Commander?” he asked slowly. “You must be tired after today’s meeting.”

“Then we’ll take it together,” Ike said. When Soren pursed his lips and shook his head, Ike lightly pressed down on his chest. “Soren. Talk to me?”

“I…” Soren closed his eyes and inhaled sharply again. Ike stayed where he was, but gave his friend time. “If I… don't sleep. Or if I sleep as little as possible and busy myself until I collapse, then… I don't have to think.”

“Think?”

“I fall asleep as soon as I close my eyes, so my mind doesn't wander. I have dreamless sleep, so… no nightmares.”

“You have nightmares?” Ike asked.

“Don't you?” Soren countered. He often turned Ike’s questions around to avoid talking about himself. Ike was used to it, so he replied.

“I do. About my father.”

“I see.”

“Yours?” Ike asked after a beat of silence, starting the back and forth that he knew always worked when talking to Soren. He would ask, Soren would reply because he never denied Ike anything, and Ike would offer more information about himself so Soren would keep talking as well.

“About the time before I met you,” Soren replied.

“I also dream about losing you to the war,” Ike offered, and predictably, another answer came.

“I dream about being left behind.”

“You won't be,” Ike said. He didn’t mention how Soren would surely outlive him. Soren knew. They both did. “I want you by my side.”

“Thank you, but… how much will that last?”

“Forever.”

“Forever is a heavy word, Ike.”

“Then… For as long as I live.”

That was heavy too. They both knew that as well. Soren didn't argue, however, because that was what he wanted. Because Ike didn't let him believe he wasn't worth it, not anymore.

He stopped pressing down on Soren’s chest but kept his hand there, his thumb tracing slow circles on Soren’s thin inner shirt. The sage squirmed in his place, and Ike smiled.

“Ticklish?” he asked.

“No,” Soren lied. Ike’s smile widened.

“Sleep, Soren,” Ike whispered. “Your nightmares won't come true. I'll be right beside you.”

“I can't. Not yet.” He turned his head to fully look at Ike with an open, vulnerable gaze that made his chest warm. “Give me some time?”

His tone was imploring, the question said in a tiny voice that was far from the usual secure and steady tone of the tactician. Ike didn't hesitate, because Ike didn't mind waiting for Soren. He would always wait for him, because he was worth it, _oh_ , so worth it.

“Of course,” he said. “I'll wait all you need.”

And so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ikesoren... makes me tendy 
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/deformedcities/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a day and now I don't like this chapter so much anymore, but I promised it, so here it is. hope you enjoy it either way :')

Being away from their old lives in Tellius had many benefits, but it was the slow mornings that Ike liked the most. He loved waking up when the sun was already high on the sky and shining through the thin curtains of their cottage. He loved waking up to warm covers and a sore back, and he loved staying where he was, feeling the sunlight on his bare skin.

He loved the moment when he felt the figure next to him stirr and groan. Ike turned around to see a couple of pale hands grabbing at tousled black hair and pulling it over red eyes. He laughed.

“It’s just the sun,” he said.

“I hate it,” Soren groaned with a hoarse voice. “Why are our curtains white?”

“You say that every morning.”

“I'll go buy darker ones today.”

Ike chuckled. “You also say that every morning.”

Soren only hummed, turning to bury his face on Ike’s chest. Ike brushed his hair away from his face before wrapping his arms around Soren, pulling him close and kissing the crown of his head.

Ike loved these moments the most. It had taken them so long to get to this point that every morning like this felt like a treasure.

They had taken a few years to settle down. They had left Tellius through Hatari and travelled with an unspoken rule that they wouldn't stay in any place for more than a week. They were wandering sellswords, and a strong paranoia that their name would become known if they stayed anywhere for too long fueled them to keep on going. But one day Soren had gotten injured. A storm had surprised them in the middle of the road, and being completely uncovered and very unprepared, they could do nothing but press on. Soren had been the only one to realize that it was a thunderstorm, and he had managed to grab Ike’s sword and tried to hurl it away from them as fast as he could. Unfortunately, he had been too late, and too unlucky. Thunder had struck, and right on target.

As it turns out, even if thunder spells could barely hurt Soren, the actual thing was very different from a simple spell. Still on the middle of the road and caught in the storm, with no means to heal this kind of injury, Ike really thought he had lost him. Thankfully, the storm let up in a few minutes and a merchant caravan with a bishop travelling in it came across them soon after, but Soren still took quite a long to recover, and Ike had felt so agitated after the incident that he had _needed_ them to stay still for a while.

They found this abandoned cottage in the outskirts of a small town, and Ike rebuilt it while Soren rested. He had experience in the restoration of buildings after all the rebuilding the Greil Mercenaries had helped with back in the day, so it took him very little time to do so, and they settled there. When Soren recovered enough to leave his bed, he started an orchard, and by the time everything was done and they were selling the vegetables they grew to sustain themselves, they decided to stay in the cottage for a while more. Injuries aside, they were both burned out from moving around all the time. The lifestyle they led after leaving Tellius wasn't as hectic as the one they had left behind, but it was as if they weren't allowing themselves the rest they had wanted to pursue by running away from it all.

Learning how to let themselves rest was the biggest challenge, especially for Soren. The town was small and their lifestyle very quiet, but the fear that they would become too recognizable still tailed them. Furthermore, after so many years of nonstop working, of looking after entire armies and taking more jobs than they could hold, being two lone people who worked an orchard and sometimes did odd jobs for the village people was… very little. Ike would find himself in a state of constant restlessness, so he did and redid the same few training drills because it was all he could do to avoid staying still. Soren, used to working from early morning to even earlier morning, would finish his work by noon, and then pace around the house for the rest of the day, organizing things that he didn't need to organize, rereading texts that he had read many times before and practicing spells that he already knew by heart. They would both go to bed each night with too much energy in their bodies, and while they could burn some of that energy through intimacy, they still woke up with nothing to do, and that cycle would repeat again and again.

It had now been two years since they started this more quiet, stationary life, and Ike would say that the turning point was the curtains. They didn’t have any, at first, but one day Ike woke up way past the crack of dawn. It had been so many years since he had slept through the sunrise that he had woken up feeling very disoriented, but also oddly relaxed. The next day he had done the same, and the next one too. On the next one, he had held Soren close to him as they fell asleep, and had tightened his arms even more when Soren had attempted to get up too early to carry out the few tasks they had to do. As it turned out, Soren hated feeling the sun on his face, so that same day they went to the town market to buy two big pieces of cloth, which were later sown into quite ineffective curtains.

Soren’s lack of foresight in getting curtains that were too light to be useful had been so charming to Ike that the next morning, when they woke up to the sun rays still blinding them and Soren grumbled to no end, Ike had grabbed his face and kissed him silly as he laughed. That had been their first lazy morning, and now Ike loved them the most.

He loved that Soren, a person that used to be so addicted to working and so desperate to be useful that he never, ever left anything undone, had been procrastinating on getting new curtains for months. He loved how, when he sat up now and stared at his sleepy lover, Soren just mumbled something intelligible and burrowed closer to Ike’s side, resting his head on his lap.

“You deserve this,” Ike said lovingly, carding his fingers through Soren’s hair.

“I disagree,” Soren replied. “I’ve hardly done anything for the sun to impart this punishment on me.”

Ike snorted, but said nothing to clarify what he really meant. At this point of their relationship they were so attuned to each other’s feelings that Ike would be surprised if Soren didn’t know what Ike meant: that Soren had suffered through a hell that he didn’t deserve, and this quiet, easy, lazy life was something he had always deserved. And that Ike was glad to share it with him, and to see Soren gradually become more and more relaxed, more and more happy.

“You do too, you know,” Soren murmured, confirming Ike’s suspicions.

“I haven’t done anything to the sun either,” Ike played along. He felt Soren smile against his thigh, and smiled along.

“You have.” Soren turned his head to look up at Ike with a playful glint in his eyes. “It must be jealous that you shine so much brighter than it.”

Ike’s smile faltered, and all he could do to hide his embarrassment was huff and hide his face with the hand that wasn't caressing Soren's hair.

“Why are you like this?” he asked.

“You love it,” Soren replied, and he said it so matter-of-factly that Ike immediately forgot about his own embarrassment. To say something like that so confidently… Soren really had grown.

And that really did things to Ike, because, a little choked up, he blurted out: “I love you.”

Soren’s lips parted in surprise, but it didn’t take long before they closed again, forming a frankly dazzling smile. Soren had always been a little cheesy, and Ike thought that the cheesiness must have rubbed off on him, because upon seeing that smile all he could think was that Soren was the one who shone brighter than the sun.

“I know,” Soren said with the same confidence as before. “Thank you.”

Ike was used to getting an ‘I love you’ back, but there really was no need now. It was written all over Soren’s eyes and smile, it was written in the way he was lazily draped over his lap, in the way he closed his eyes and slept next to Ike each night. It was written in the way he let himself wake later and later each day, in the way he kept the impractical curtains because he knew Ike loved them.

The gratitude was more meaningful. It was gratitude for Ike’s patience, as if the life they shared now wasn’t enough of a reward for it. It was gratitude for Ike’s loyalty, trust, and undying love. It was gratitude because Soren could confidently say that Ike loved him, because Soren knew he was worthy of this life, and because, even if Ike couldn’t imagine it himself, that had to be one hell of a way to feel after years and years of self-hatred and insecurity.

“I’m keeping my promises,” Ike whispered. _This is our forever,_ he didn’t say. _The rest of my life._

The words weren’t so heavy anymore. And Soren knew that.

“I know you are,” he replied. “Thank you for that.”

“It’s been my pleasure.”

Soren’s smile widened, and he reached out, making grabby hands at Ike’s face. Ike’s heart skipped a beat, and he lay back down, taking Soren in his arms and kissing him softly. Soren melted in his embrace, relaxing even further.

The slept through lunch, woke up hungry and even grumpier at the glaring sun. Ike loved every bit of it.


End file.
